


Constellation

by demetyr



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Gen, Kirk meets a star as a kid and they kind of fall in love?, M/M, Mpreg, Other, Starfleet, Stars, Tarsus IV, but not really, er yeah...that happens, quasi-love triangle?, self-sacrifice?, space, the final frontier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 19:04:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3661506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demetyr/pseuds/demetyr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which stars fall for Kirk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Constellation

Kirk first met her as a child. He doesn’t remember how old he was exactly, only that he was old enough to remember and young enough to still believe.

He remembers it like this:

He was curled up in bed, thin arms curled against his chest, and he was almost asleep when he heard it – a soft tapping, and a whisper of a song.

So he climbed out of bed and made his way over to the window where the sounds were louder. He didn’t see anything. Opening the window was an easy task, completed in moments, and then he let himself dangle out of the window, looking for the source. He found it, sitting on the roof to his right.

There was a girl there, perched on the edge of the softly sloping roof, legs draped over its edge as her feet – bare feet, and small – kicked aimlessly. She was dressed in a draping, shapeless robe that glittered and gleamed in the soft light. And she was singing, a high chime-like sound that he’d never heard another being make.

The chiming stopped, and the two of them stared at each other for a few moments.

“I’m Jimmy,” he said. “James Tiberius Kirk.”

The girl canted her head slightly to one side. “A… Jimmy?” she said, and her speaking voice had the same high, chiming quality as her singing voice. “What is that?”

Jimmy blinked. “It’s my name,” he said with a shrug, as unconcernedly philosophical as young children tend to be. “What’s yours?”

“I… do not believe I have one,” the girl said slowly, looking down at her feet. “Am I supposed to?”

“ _Everybody_ has a name,” Jimmy said in the certainty of the young. “You really don’t got one?” She shook her head, and Jimmy pursed his lips at this confirmation. “I know!” he said excitedly, a wide grin crawling across his face and setting his blue eyes to dancing, “ _I’ll_ give you a name!” The girl’s eyes widened at this – and then she inched forward, a small, small smile of her own beginning to show.

“Hmmm,” Jimmy hummed to himself, tapping his chin with one finger like he’d seen his mother do. “Name name name… Chara!” he cried exultantly, pointing his finger at the girl. “Your name is Chara!”

“Cha – ra?” the girl said, rolling the name around in her mouth as if it were candy. “Chara. Chara.” Then that small smile blossomed into a full-fledged grin, and Jimmy could swear he heard that high, ringing chime again. “Thank you, Jimmy.” Chara leaned forward and pressed a soft, chaste peck to his cheek. And immediately warmth flooded the boy, curling from his head all the way down into his toes.

“I have given you my Dust,” she said as she drew back. “In thanks for the name. We belong to each other, now.”

“Like friends?” Jimmy asked, rubbing his cheek and wondering where that warmth had come from – and if it would come back. It had felt _nice_.

Chara shook her head.

“Like family?” Jimmy guessed. Again, Chara shook her head.

“Even closer. You named me, James Tiberius Kirk. I am yours, and you are mine.” She turned from him then, to point at a twinkling star far in the distance. “Do you see that? Whenever you have need, simply call upon me.”

“You’re a _star?_ ” Jimmy breathed in wide-eyed wonder. “That is _so cool!_ ”

Chara smiled, and turning back to face Jimmy, leaned forward to kiss his cheek once again. “We are part of each other, now. And we always will be.” With a last smile, and that high, chiming music, she began to fade away. Jimmy watched with a rapt expression, feeling a second wave of that earlier warmth flood through him.

“This is so cool,” he whispered. “Wait till I tell Mom and Sam!” 

o0o0o0o0o

The next time they met Jimmy was eleven years old, and he wasn’t _Jimmy_ anymore, he was _Jim_. But he didn’t correct Chara when she whispered his childhood name in that high, chime-like voice of hers.

“Jimmy?”

It was night – then again, when else did stars come out? – and they were in the middle of nowhere. Jim wasn’t sure how far he’d walked from the house, but he knew he probably wouldn’t make it back by morning. He didn’t want to go back, anyways. Jim knew he should _want_ to be at home, especially in the middle of the night, but he didn’t. He hadn’t wanted to be at home – or anywhere, really – for a very long time.

Chara waited.

“I drove a car over a cliff a couple’a days ago,” Jim said bluntly, not really looking at his… friend? Pet? Star? “Got arrested.”

Arms enfolded him then, sending that shivery warmth coursing through him. It had been years since he’d last experienced this – not since that first night when he gave Chara her name – but it hadn’t changed. It swept through him, from the tips of his fingers all the way down to his toes, swirling through his head and leaving him almost giddy with it all. Without conscious thought, Jim’s hands lifted to clutch lightly at the arms holding him.

“Chara.”

“Jimmy,” Chara whispered. “Why do you keep yourself so empty? The Dust cannot make you shine if you won’t let it.” There was a kind of agony in her voice, drowning out the music of the chimes. “Jimmy, won’t you shine for me? Like I shine for you?”

Jim’s hands tightened around Chara’s arm.

“I don’t know how,” he admitted, staring out over the open expanse of field, the stars glittering above them both (there was a small dark spot in the sky, but Jim knew exactly where that star was).

“Let the Dust show you,” Chara said, resting her head on Jim’s shoulder. Such tense shoulders, for such a young human…

“I dunno, Chara,” Jim said with a shrug, though he was careful not to dislodge her from where she rested. “I… I dunno if I can.”

“Of course you can,” Chara said, no small sense of bewilderment in her voice. “You are the beloved of a star, and all such can shine. As bright as the star to which they lay claim.”

“Really?” Jim said in a whisper, somewhere between doubt and a desperate want to believe. “Nobody else seems to think so.”

“No one else knows you the way I do,” Chara said stoutly, raising her head from its resting place on Jim’s shoulder. She reached out with one hand, and placing it on Jim’s cheek, tenderly turned him to face her. “I know you, James Tiberius Kirk, as no one on this earth can ever possibly think to know you. I am your star, and you are my beloved. As I shine, so too shall you.”

Jim was silent a moment, staring into Chara’s lavender-silver eyes.

“Why are you here, Chara?” Jim asked.

“You called,” the star said simply, resting her head once more on Jim’s shoulder. They remained that way for the rest of the night, and until the very last vestiges of dawn when Chara began to fade away with the morning light.

But even when she was completely gone, back in her spot in the sky, Jim could still feel her warmth, and the pulsing energy of the Dust she left behind. Standing, he stretched widely, then turned to make the long walk back home. 

o0o0o0o0o

The next time they met, Jim was far from Earth, away from Iowa, from home, from all that was safe and familiar.

The next time they met, Jim was on Tarsus IV.

The next time they met, Jim was dying, and so were four thousand other people.

Chara never said anything during those visits, just cradled Jim close in the depths of night, filling him again and again with her stardust, with strength and hope and the will to survive. And during the day, Jim used the warmth and strength she filled him with to fill others with the same, to save and feed as many of the other condemned as he could.

And when he was brought to Kodos, Chara spent every night with him; from the moment the sun began to darken until the moment the stars could no longer be seen. They never talked; Chara just sang. That high, chime-like song she had sung the very first time Jim ever met her (when he was still Jimmy, and things were still good), and Jim lay curled up in her embrace, silent.

Jim never knew it, but when Starfleet officers found him, his rescuers would swear he was glowing softly, and that the sound of chimes whispered softly around him.

Once safely ensconced in the sickbay of one of the rescue starships, Chara visited Jim once again.

“It’s day,” Jim said in a cracked, raspy voice, hoarse from disuse and hunger.

“It is space,” Chara replied, perching on the seat next to the bed. Jim gave her an odd look, having expected her to sit on the bed next to him as she had always done. Chara had never taken a seat away from Jim when she could simply rest on him. And Jim didn’t mind – she didn’t weigh hardly anything at all.

“You need to heal,” Chara said, and Jim caught the hint of something low and raw in her voice, something dark and heavy.

“Chara?” he asked, voice cracking, as he reached out tentatively with trembling fingers. He held his hand out, shaking, and slowly Chara reached out and grasped his hand in return. As she did so, Jim noticed something different – Chara didn’t seem as bright as she usually did; for some reason she seemed smaller, diminished, darker. “Chara?” Jim asked again, worry for his star beginning to crack the carefully constructed and maintained façade of indifference and strength that Tarsus IV had built into him, fracturing the numbness that dealing with Kodos had induced.

“I am fine, Jimmy,” Chara hastened to assure the young man, squeezing his hand gently. “I am simply saddened by the needless destruction of so many stars.”

“Stars?” Jim asked, a sinking feeling beginning to form in his stomach. Chara didn’t mean what he thought she meant, did she? She _did_ look like Jim was feeling – washed out, blank, dead.

“When the beloved of a star dies,” Chara began, only to pause. She looked away from Jim then, and he clenched his fingers around hers, refusing to let her slip away.

“What happens, Chara?” Jim demanded, not caring that his throat ached and burned from talking so emphatically after so long a period of silence. “ _What happens?_ ”

“When the beloved of a star dies,” Chara repeated, raising her head to look Jim straight in the eyes, “the star goes permanently dark and vanishes, out of heartbreak.”

Jim stared at the star, feeling his eyes go wide. “You _die?_ ” he whispered, voice cracking from shock. “You mean that if you pick a human and they – ” Jim broke off to cough harshly, and Chara made as if to move away, but Jim once more tightened his hand on hers, holding her in place. “If the human bites it, you _die?_ ” Jim tugged on Chara’s hand when she refused to look at him. “You’re going to _die_ when I kick the bucket?” Incredulity colored his voice, and it cracked once more. Chara said nothing.

“ _Chara!_ ” Jim said, coughing once more. He forced himself clumsily to an upright position, and Chara finally looked at him, worry in her eyes. Jim let go of her hand to grasp at her, cradling her head desperately yet gently as possible. “You’re going to _die?_ ” He whispered, not caring that she could see him shake.

“… yes,” Chara said softly, slowly, finally. “Yes, one day, when you go to your eternal rest, I shall follow you. And gladly,” she added fiercely. “I have seen the fire inside of you, James Tiberius Kirk, and it burns as bright as any star I have ever met.” She continued right over Jim’s protesting noise. “I am proud to be your star, to shine with you. And I will be proud to follow you into the next beyond and light your way.”

Jim kissed her. It was awkward – he could hardly hold himself up anymore, so he was essentially hanging onto Chara for support – and Jim was pretty sure that Chara didn’t really know what a kiss was. But he kissed her anyways. Right in the middle of sickbay on a ship he didn’t know, Jim kissed a star.

And the warmth swept him away, and carried him safely all the way back to Earth.

o0o0o0o0o

 The next time they met, Jim was beaten, bruised, and bloody, being talked at by a man who called himself Captain Pike and who dared to tell Jim about his father.

“I dare you to do better,” Pike was saying, and Jim heard him, but his attention was snagged by the young woman at the back of the bar. The young woman with lavender-silver eyes, and a soft glow to her skin.

 _“Shine brightly,”_ she whispered, the two words echoing throughout the room, though only Jim seemed to hear them. _“Shine brightly, Jim.”_

Jim was on the cadet shuttle the next morning. Three years later, he was the _Enterprise_ , facing down Nero (and trying not to think about he’d had to say to Spock). After the debacle was over and the _Enterprise_ was limping home, Jim noticed that one star shone particularly brightly. And if he recognized a faint wisp of shivery chimes, well, he could always explain the soft smile away by claiming it his due after the thrilling heroics of the day.

_Shine brightly, Jim._

Chara was waiting for him in the impromptu quarters he’d been hastily assigned until they returned to Earth, and to Starfleet.

“James,” she said softly, rising from her seat with a smile, once more draped in that gleaming silver robe. “I am so glad to see that you survived.” Tears glistened in her otherworldly eyes, and she reached out with both arms to embrace him. “When I felt the skies go dark…” her voice caught, and Jim’s arms came up and around her quickly then, holding on tightly.

“Chara…”

“Oh, beloved, the skies are _dark_ ,” Chara whispered into his neck, voice shivering with grief. Jim tightened his hold on her then, cradling her close. After a moment, she lifted her head, and they stood together, Jim staring down at her upturned face. Later, he could not remember who moved first; all he knew was that suddenly they were kissing, clutching each other as if the other person might suddenly disappear.

Surprisingly, stars tasted just like other humans, Jim discovered. Until he deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue past Chara’s lips and into her mouth, and suddenly his head exploded, trying to catalogue just what he tasted – and felt. She was sweet and sour, salty and sugary, a light taste and a cloying one. She was hot and cold all at once, sending shivers throughout his entire body as well as the circling warmth Jim had always associated with her.

Eventually they ended up on the bed, but there was never anything beyond kisses. They lay curled together in a fashion reminiscent of how Chara had cradled Jim on Tarsus IV, except that now Jim was the one cradling Chara. He didn’t mind the role reversal at all. It was about time he was able to do something for his star.

They fell asleep that way, curled around each other, and Chara was still there when Jim woke. She smiled down at him, and they kissed once again, this time slowly. Chara broke the kiss, then placed a chaste peck on Jim’s forehead before resting her head on Jim’s chest.

“You make me forget the skies are dark,” she whispered as she began to fade. “I am glad, beloved, that you are still here.”

o0o0o0o0o

Chara didn’t visit for some time after that. But then, Jim was okay with that – he had things to take care of, what with his sudden captaincy and general levels of inexperience. He was running around trying to figure out this captain thing, and hopefully without blowing anything up or getting anyone killed.

Thank God for Spock.

Sure, they’d had a rough start (Jim still winced whenever he thought of what he’d said to Spock, even if it had been necessary), but they were starting to actually get along now, talking about things not related to work, working out together (Jim was trying to get Spock to teach him some of the Vulcan martial arts; those were pretty badass). Of course, Jim considered his crowning achievement in Making Friends With Spock to be having gotten his First Officer to play weekly chess games in Jim’s quarters. They usually took dinner together those nights, ordering from Jim’s personal food synthesizer.

All in all, Jim considered things to be progressing pretty nicely. Sure, he wouldn’t mind seeing Chara, but… Spock – and captaining – kept him comfortably busy. They fell into a comfortable routine, of being professional comrades and good personal friends, of surviving away missions and each other (and Bones, when the CMO got a bit hypo happy), and before Jim knew it, three years had passed.

He kissed Spock for the first time six months into their third year in space, a light, sweet, chaste press of lips, nothing demanding or challenging. Just an expression of his surprisingly deep affection.

And Jim would swear he’d touched his lips to an old fashioned electrical socket, with the thrill that ran through him when _Spock_ deepened the kiss. It was like kissing Chara, a bundle of everything and nothing all at once, and when they broke for air Jim could feel the fine tremors snaking through him.

Spock left Jim’s quarters without saying a word – which was probably just as well, because Jim didn’t think he would have been able to reply. There was one last, lingering kiss, both human and Vulcan, a press of lips and fingertips, and then Jim was alone in his quarters. He exhaled shakily, and sat down heavily upon his mattress. Jim wasn’t too surprised to feel the mattress dip beside him moments later. Chara _did_ have a habit of showing up when he needed something.

Jim couldn’t help feeling a little guilty, though; _something_ had been going on between him and Chara, though he was almost certain it was largely platonic (kissing aside; he wasn’t entirely sure how to explain that).

“He is beautiful, is he not?” came Chara’s chime-like voice, happiness overflowing in it.

“Yeah,” Jim agreed. “I can’t believe…” He shook his head. “Spock… he tastes like you. When we kissed. It – it was like kissing you, Chara,” Jim admitted after several moments.

“Not all stars are in the sky,” Chara replied, something almost smug in her voice. Jim looked at her sharply then, catching the smirk that curved her lips. Guilt tugged at his heart again.

“Chara – ”

Chara stopped Jim by placing one finger against his lips.

“Hush, James,” she said, her smirk now a soft and loving smile. “It is good, that you have found each other.” She leans forward to kiss him on the forehead. “Go chase your star, James. Catch him and do not let go.”

Jim nodded.

“Shine brightly, beloved,” Chara said with a smile before vanishing. No soft fading away to nothingness this time, just a quick blink and she was gone. Jim felt a little off balance at her seemingly abrupt departure, but he knew he had her approval, and her encouragement.

With that thought in mind, Jim stood and exited his quarters.

He had a Vulcan star to catch. 

o0o0o0o0o

The last time Jim saw Chara was at the beginning of the second five year mission. Chara had visited periodically throughout the last two years of the previous mission, and Jim had eventually introduced Spock to her. That had been one of the most nerve-wracking yet vaguely hilarious conversations Jim had ever been witness to. But it couldn’t be more worrisome than the current situation.

Chara had appeared on the bridge in the middle of Alpha shift, when Jim and the rest of the main bridge crew were on duty. Instead of simply appearing into focus, it appeared to take her several tries to fully materialize, and even then she remained gray, washed out, and fuzzy.

“What on – ” exclaimed Sulu, staring in shock.

“Jimmy,” Chara whispered, and her voice sounded different, too – no longer the high, sweet chimes, now it sounded vaguely discordant and incredibly tired.

“Chara?” Jim said in shock.

“Jimmy?” Uhura repeated, also staring. “Chara? Captain, just what is going on here?”

Jim leapt from his chair and took the few steps necessary to reach Chara, hands coming up to cup her shoulders. “Chara, what’s wrong?” he asked, scanning her for any clue as t what caused her appearance.

Spock also came forward. Though he had not the relationship with Chara that Jim did, he had come to appreciate the star’s presence.

The words that fell from Chara’s lips were not what Jim had been expecting.

“I am dying, Jimmy,” she whispered, face drawn and haggard. “I can no longer shine, and I can feel the inward pull.” She reached up to lay one delicate hand underneath her breast. “I can feel it here, the darkness that comes in the wake of the death of every star…”

“ _Chara._ ” Jim’s whisper was agonized, and he pulled her forward into a full-bodied embrace. “That’s not possible; you said you won’t die until I do and I’m not dead yet, so you _can’t_ die.”

Chara shook her head slowly, soft strands of hair brushing over Jim’s arms.

“No, beloved, I never said I would only die with you.” She pushed back out of his hold carefully, gently. “It is possible for a star to go dark before her beloved.”

“But…” Jim swallowed. “But that’s not _right_ ,” he whispered, and by this point he no longer cared that his entire bridge was staring in rapt silence at the two of them. All he cared about was the star that he could almost see fading. “You’re a _star_ , you’re supposed to last for billions of years – ”

Chara silenced him with a soft kiss. “I know, Jimmy,” she said. “But such is not to be. I cannot ask for you to return my time to me, nor would I ever ask.”

“Wait,” Jim said, interrupting, “ you mean – you mean _I’m_ killing you?”

Chara shook her head emphatically. “ _No_ , beloved. All that I have given to you I have given willingly, and would never dream of its return.” She cupped Jim’s face in her hands and smiled up at him. “A star shines as brightly as her beloved, just as she goes dark with him. And you shine so very, very brightly, my beloved. I used myself up attempting to match your light.”

“But – ”

“No,” Chara said softly, laying one finger over Jim’s lips. She let her other hand slip fro Jim’s face down to his hand, and grasping it gently, she led Jim over to where Spock stood. “You are lucky enough to have two stars, Jimmy.” She reached out, took Spock’s hand, and clasped it together with Jim’s.

Rising up on her tiptoes, she kissed each of them on the cheek.

“I came only to warn you,” she said, moving away from them. Jim made as if to follow, but Spock had yet to let go of his hand. Chara pointed to a flickering light on the viewscreen; an unstable star. “That is me,” she said. “You must move away.”

There was heavy silence for what seemed an interminable amount of time before Jim’s voice rasped out, “Sulu, take us away.”

“A-aye-aye, Captain,” Sulu said, jumping in his seat before turning to his console. The hum of the gathering warp capability began to vibrate under their feet. Chara smiled, and faded from view as Sulu took the ship to warp and piloted them away.

Jim closed his eyes, unable to watch the sensors as that flickering spot suddenly bloomed large and bright, and then collapsed in on itself.

He could still feel the lingering warmth of her touch ghosting over his skin.

Everyone was silent for the remainder of the shift. 

o0o0o0o0o

Spock entered the observation deck without a word, and quietly keyed in the override lock code to ensure privacy. Still silent, he moved to join the figure standing dejectedly before the large viewing window. Neither man said a word.

“She’s gone, Spock,” Jim said finally, raising one hand to rest on the window. “Chara’s… _gone_.”

“Such is the nature of all beings, Jim,” Spock said slowly, softly. Jim said nothing in reply, just continued to gaze out at space, at the stars around them, and at one dark spot in particular.

“I’m cold, Spock,” Jim said after several minutes. He turned to face the Vulcan. “Warm me up?”

Spock reached out, gently placing his hands on Jim’s hips, and drew his lover close, enfolding the human in alien heat and strength. Jim wrapped his arms around Spock’s waist, clinging almost desperately as he burrowed into Spock’s chest. The Vulcan could feel fine tremors shaking the body of the man he held, and he tightened his grasp, pulling the human even closer. They stood like that for several moments, before Spock loosened one hand and used it to lift Jim’s chin, upturning his face for a gentle kiss that deepened slowly, but lost none of it tenderness.

“Come to bed, Jim,” Spock said quietly into the space between them after he broke the kiss, leading an unresisting Jim towards the door where he keyed in the code to unlock the door. “Come to bed.” And he proceeded to lead his human back to their quarters.

Once there, Spock divested them both of clothing, and maneuvered them into the bed where he proceeded to make slow, gentle love to Jim, despite any of Jim’s attempt to make their coupling faster or harder. Spock kept his slow pace, trailing kisses – both human and Vulcan – over his love’s skin, smoothing away tension and chasing away the chill, leaving only warmth behind.

The orgasm was shattering in its intensity, despite its tender creation.

As they lay together afterwards, Spock turned onto his side and gathered Jim close as he finally allowed himself to mourn. It wasn’t any great production of weeping or yelling, just a tightening of Jim’s arms around Spock’s chest until the Vulcan’s ribs nearly creaked, and few tears dampened the skin of that pale chest.

But at least Jim was warm now, and safe in Spock’s arms. 

o0o0o0o0o

The next time Jim and Spock saw Chara, it was nine months after that night, and nine months after one major _Enterprise_ -wide freak-out when it was discovered that their very male Captain was, somehow, very pregnant. It was no surprise who the father was, everyone had known about _that_ relationship before those two had even thought about it.

Even so, pregnancy had not been expected. But it was not unwelcomed, and after the period of weirdness, Jim’s baby was quite the anticipated event.

So nine months later, when Jim finally held his child in his arms, he could hardly believe it.

“It’s a girl, Jim,” Bones said, a surprisingly tender smile on his face as he handed over the squirming, wailing, bundled up child.

“A girl?” Jim whispered, a silly grin spreading across his face. He looked up at his husband (they had gotten officially married as soon as they found out about the child). “Spock, we’re daddies. We have a daughter!”

“And you are silly on pain meds,” Bones said amusedly, fondly observing the three. “What’s her name, Jim?”

The baby had stopped crying as Bones spoke, and finally opened her eyes – gray-blue eyes, with the slightest hint of lavender.

Jim inhaled sharply, and Spock’s hand tightened briefly on his shoulder.

“Chara,” he whispered, staring down at his daughter, and the baby burbled, a high, happy, musical sound.

“Say what, Jim?” Bones asked, looking up.

“Chara,” Jim said firmly. “Her name is Chara.”

And deep in space, a tiny light sparked into being.


End file.
